Can Never Love
by elojello10
Summary: "You should cease chasing him, Miles Edgeworth," Franziska humorously started up again, smoothing out her skirts and smirking to herself. "Even if he returned your feelings, it wouldn't work out. ...A noble and a servant? How incredibly impossible and foolish."


**_Author's Note: I know what you're thinking... "Another story? Really, Jello?" I know, I know! I can't help it. I promise I'll finish the other ones sometime, but in the meantime, enjoy another one that I am starting. Of course it's Phoenix/Miles, but it has a twist! Sorry for so many unfinished stories. *sigh* I'm a hopeless writer. My own personal AU though! :) So have fun reading!_**

**_Edit: I rewrote most of this chapter. It sounds much better now. Even though I am not satisfied with it, I very much like this one a lot more than the other. I hope you guys enjoy! _**

**_Disclaimer: Ace Attorney does not belong to me. This fic and any other character is of my creation. _**

"No, Franziska. Wrong. Do it again."

Franziska groaned and huffed in protest. "But Father, I was doing it perfectly! I swear!"

"Obviously not perfect enough. Now do as I say. Curtsy correctly!" Her father scolded, glaring down at his daughter. His arms were impatiently folded across his chest, waiting.

She felt an embarrassed blush cross her cheeks as she sighed and adjusted her skirts and bowed her head.

Miles, who was off in the far corner of the grand room, watched the two silently. He was used to this little scene. His little sister was always being pestered by the head of the household. Of course, it wasn't like it was an odd thing. Manfred von Karma, the father, strove for perfection in everything. He wouldn't settle for anything less, even if his poor daughter was tired and hurting in her heels and corset.

"Straighter," he heard Manfred demand, pushing at Franziska's back. "Do not slouch so much. You do not want to disappoint our guests with such a sloppy curtsy! Bow your head more, Franziska. You're too forward. Christ... They will mistake you for a servant at this rate!"

Miles watched on, observing the events that played out before him. At any rate, Manfred would tire of her and Franziska would burst. He couldn't help to feel the familiar tug of a smirk at his lips. Only when she glanced at him and their eyes met for a brief second that he knew to drop the smug look and pay attention elsewhere. He could already feel the burn of her glare through the back of his head.

"Honestly, Franziska," Manfred sighed, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "What is the matter with you? This is hardly tedious; basic stuff, really! What will the others think of you at the ball?"

"What _others_, Father?" she mocked, playing with her hair. That earned a scowl from the man.

The ball. Oh, yes. They were throwing a ball tonight, weren't they? In celebration of another perfect, rich year. Miles rolled his eyes to himself and scoffed. These parties were practically pointless, and yet each year Manfred moved to throw one. They'd invite all the nobles they associated with, and many Miles was not fond of. Really, he could care less about anyone outside of this estate. He wasn't exactly a people kind of person, anyhow.

He heard Manfred start again. "I expect you to learn and perform this perfectly, Franziska. You are to practice your dancing, as well." Franziska let out a defeated, heavy sigh. "And Miles, I expect as much from you, for you shall be the perfect example of the perfection that is of the von Karma household."

Miles stiffened. Those were the words he was dreading. Once again, he could feel Franziska's familiar glare at the back of his head. That was right. Manfred considered him the representative of his household, sort of like an advertisement for the other nobles that screamed, "The von Karma's are the absolute best". Manfred considered Miles his prized possession, sort of like his favorite trophy or game. To put it simply, he used Miles to gain fame, to keep his perfect reputation, for Miles wasn't born of his blood. In fact, the boy was adopted, taken in by the man and his daughter.

When Miles' was only but a small child, his father had passed away in an accident that he had also been in involving a carriage. Trapped and encased underneath it with their chauffeur, Miles was dazed and confused and unaware of what was happening around him. He could not breathe, could not see, and he was deathly afraid. He could smell blood and dirt mixed in the air. The last he could remember before passing out underneath the weight of the destroyed carriage was a pair of rich, shiny leather boots standing in front of him. Forever etched in his mind was the chaos from that fated day, and Manfred was the one that took him away from it all.

Touching as it was, Manfred raised him up a different way than how his father had the first nine years of his life. Switching from middle class to the noble class was a huge transition for Miles, though hardly impossible for him. Through scorching practices and long, excruciating lessons, Miles earned the right to become part of the von Karma family even if he bore a different last name. And he was damn proud of it.

"Miles," Manfred boomed, interrupting his moment of reminiscing. "You understand what I expect from you, do you not?"

Swiftly in one movement, he turned toward the man and smirked, bowing gracefully. "But of course, Mr. von Karma. You will not be disappointed, I assure you." He peered at him through his bangs which were draped over his eyes as he bowed.

Manfred fixed him with a hard gaze for a moment before giving off a huff of approval and turning to Franziska once more to tell her something else she needed to do. Miles stood straight, smoothing down his vest and fixing his cravat in an attempt to busy himself. Oh how annoyed his sister looked! He couldn't help himself when a low chuckle escaped his lips as Manfred exited the room. Immediately, her head whipped around to look at her brother, eyes narrowed with pure envy and anger. It almost made him want to hit the floor with bubbling laughter.

When her frown deepened and she bent down toward one of her heeled boots, Miles held his breath. In her hand appeared her favorite toy: her riding crop. As she stomped over toward him, he knew what was to come. He was in for it now.

"I truly do not understand!" she yelled, cerulean eyes fixed on the soft gray orbs that were Miles'. "Miles Edgeworth, I truly _loathe_ you! The way Father speaks to, looks at you, _treats_ you– How foolishly unacceptable!"

At that last statement, her crop came down and struck his arm. Miles yelped and jumped back, glaring at his sister. "Calm yourself, Franziska," he hissed, rubbing the inflicted area on his arm. "It is not my fault that you– _OUCH_! Franziska! This whipping is uncalled for!"

"Uncalled for? Not hardly. This punishment is fit for a fool, such as yourself," she retorted, crossing her arms below her chest and lightly tapping her crop against the bicep of her left arm. She offered him a teasing smirk, with which he turned it down with a scowl.

Miles attempted to change the subject. "Shouldn't you be practicing what Mr. von Karma instructed to you?"

Franziska flipped her hair, rolling her eyes and lifting her chin at him defiantly. "And shouldn't _you _be as well, little brother?"

Miles cringed at the name. He was fairly older than the girl, and yet she still addressed him as her younger sibling. He supposed it gave her a sense of control, trying to be greater than him in her own way. He sighed and rolled his eyes, turning from her and heading over to a nearby window. She followed closely behind him. Despite ignoring her question, she didn't move to bring it back up, and the siblings allowed blissful silence to fall over them. It was quite nice to have this between the two of them. They stared off past the glass of the window and at the garden that stretched out below and behind the estate. It was a rather large garden, with all sorts of exotic, rare, common, and beautiful flowers and trees and plants of the like. It was the most breathtaking place in the whole house in Miles' opinion. Often did he spend his time here when he needed to think or take a walk or appreciate nature as it is. It was the only other area he enjoyed other than the library.

There was a sudden nudge at his side. His head snapped in the direction of his sister, who was peering up at him with a single arched eyebrow. His brow came below his forehead and knitted together in confusion. With a single finger, she pointed at the window. No, not at the window, at something that was beyond the window. With curious eyes, Miles followed her accusing finger to something that lay dormant on one of the many benches in the garden. Immediately, Miles recognized what it was and his nose scrunched up in disgust.

"What a foolish fool," Franziska sighed, swiping at her uncooperative bangs. "Sleeping on the job! Father will not be so pleased with him."

Miles remained silent, just staring at the sleeping figure adorned in his dirty work clothing from working hard at the garden previous to his sudden sleeping break. He could feel Franziska's eyes on him, not pleased with his silence in the slightest. He was thankful that he was good at masking his emotions, his face stone cold and blank under her stare. Finally, he ripped his eyes away and met them with the younger pair.

"What is it?" he asked, bored.

She stared at him a little longer before shrugging her shoulders, which was quite unladylike of her. "Oh, nothing really."

Miles narrowed his eyes at her response. "...You are lying to me."

"And what of it?" she retorted, smirking and running a finger along the length of her riding crop. She looked up at him from underneath her long lashes. "It does not matter."

"Like hell it doesn't. Franziska–!" he was interrupted with a smack of the crop, flinching.

"Shut it," she commanded, glowering. Miles shivered under her gaze. She suddenly turned from him, leaving. "Now come along, Miles Edgeworth. We must rehearse."

He stole a glance out the window. "What? But I don't–"

"You want to stare at him a moment longer, little brother? How pathetic!" Franziska barked out a mocking laugh and stopped walking, causing Miles to frown. "You can't be serious! Listen to me, Miles Edgeworth. It's impossible. You hear me?"

His face reddened at what she was hinting at. He said nothing in response, ignoring her and holding his head high. He heard her sigh heavily and smack her crop lightly against one of her hands.

"You should cease chasing him, Miles Edgeworth," Franziska humorously started up again, smoothing out her skirts and smirking to herself. "Even if _he _returned your feelings, it would never work. ...A noble and a peasant? One of Father's _servants_? How incredibly impossible and foolish."

Miles', now listening to her, stared at her in a bit of shock. His lips parted slightly as if to say something, but not a sound escaped his lips. His eyes traced his sister's petite face, searching from something to go off from. Unfortunately, he could not refute her statement. He stood there, dejected and taken aback. He wasn't like that for long, though, for he stood as straight as he could and looked down at her, matching the intensity of her gaze. He smirked back.

"Preposterous," he retorted, finally finding his voice. "I would not fall for such a man of his taste. You are right that he is a fool, and fools do not deserve such attention. I do not want to involve myself with the likes of him. How bothersome. Honestly, Franziska... What do you even think of me? I thought you were smarter than that."

At that, Franziska's face glowed crimson and the glare she fixed on Miles was less than scary; it was actually quite adorable. Without saying anything back, she huffed and turned on her heel, quick to stomp her way toward the door. He watched as she flung the door open in obvious anger and throw a quick, annoyed glance back at him. He only smiled and she gave him the most disgusted, irritated look he had ever seen her give him. And when she finally stormed out of the room, Miles doubled over with laughter. It took a moment to regain his composure, wiping at his eyes where tears threatened his eyesight. He grinned to himself.

"Fool the fool," he began talking to himself, "and the fool will have no choice but to believe."

With a slight hop in his step, he made his way out of the room as well, trailing after his younger sibling. Rehearsal for the ball was going to prove difficult, but oh it was so worth it. The humor of the "fight" took his mind off of more trivial matters anyhow, and _that_ he could do without.

Calmly striding down the rather long hall, he glanced about the walls. There were paintings of the three of them, and paintings of scenery and several places that Manfred owned other than the estate they lived in. It was expected, after all. What was a man like Manfred to do with all his wealth? What better to spend it on things that were unnecessary? Absorbed in his thoughts, Miles was paying little attention to his surroundings. Because of this, he ran straight into another body, nearly stumbling backward. Thankfully, the one whom he had run into had reached forward and pulled him up so that he would up stay on his feet.

Quickly, Miles' eyes flicked up to meet the stranger's. He sighed with relief when he noticed who it was.

"Thank you, Mr. Gumshoe," he nodded once, straightening his clothes out of habit.

The man nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Of course, Mr. Edgeworth. Be careful next time, Sir!"

Miles stepped away from him, looking at his attire with obvious curiosity. He was dressed rather nicely for being one of Manfred's servants. With a cocked eyebrow, Miles stared at him.

As if he heard him voice the silent question, Gumshoe commented, "Mr. von Karma donated these pieces of clothing to me. He instructed I look decent for the upcoming ball tonight. I am put on watch duty, Sir. He wants me to look as professional as a peasant can at a noble's ball." The man was practically beaming at Miles.

That last sentence made Miles cringe. It sounded so... wrong. No matter, he brushed it off and nodded at Gumshoe with much heeded approval. He flashed him a small smile, it coming and going quickly.

"Good for you, I suppose," he replied, playing with the cuffs of his sleeves. "I hope all goes well for you tonight, Mr. Gumshoe. If you find the time, you may come and speak with me if you wish. Only if your job permits it."

For a second, the man almost looked hopeful, but realization hit him when he knew it was going to be almost impossible. The man slumped his shoulders slightly, and Miles had to scold him and tell him that it was quite unprofessional of him. The older one sighed heavily.

"Thank you for the offer, young master Edgeworth," Gumshoe mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "That's very kind of you."

Miles eyed him silently. "But of course, Mr. Gumshoe."

An awkward silence fell over them, the two of them staring at nothing in particular. It was Miles who broke the quite with a single cough.

"Well," he told him, making his way around the servant, "I must be going."

"Aye," replied he, nodding. "Good seeing you, Mr. Edgeworth." He bowed to him, and with that, the two were on their separate ways.

Finally able to find his sister once more, who was practicing her dancing all by herself, he watched her with feigning interest. She actually wasn't as bad as Manfred made her out to be, and Miles knew that. After all, the two used to dance with one another when they were of a younger age. When she finally noticed him, he smiled at her, but she did not smile back. She was still aggravated and angry.

Miles sighed and lifted both of his arms, stepping forward while simultaneously shaking his head and shrugging. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

"I thought we were done, Miles Edgeworth," she growled.

"I wasn't aware we even started something," he mocked, stopping a few feet in front of her.

Her eyes narrowed. "Do not be smart with me!"

Miles chuckled. "Fine. I thought we should rehearse together, sister. After all, it was your idea."

She raised a single, perfect eyebrow. "...You do not wish to speak of that–?"

"The ball, Franziska," he cut in, his gaze cold and hard, "is tonight. If you wish not to anger your father anymore than you have, you will cooperate with me."

At that, she placed her hands on her hips and stubbornly looked upon him with ignorance that equaled his obvious annoyance. When one side of her mouth lifted up into a smirk, she sighed in playful defeat.

"Fine," she agreed, straightening her upper body. "You win this time, Miles Edgeworth. Let us dance."

Miles nodded and stepped forward, meeting his hand with hers and placing the other in the proper position as she followed suit. In this moment, the siblings were one. With each twist and turn, each step and jump, they were absorbed in their own flawless performance. It was a performance that was of the highest degree of perfection. Manfred would be pleased.

And in this, Miles became lost.


End file.
